


The Labyrinth of London His Last Trick

by FarGreenCountrySwiftSunrise



Series: The Labyrinth of London [30]
Category: Labyrinth (1986), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Blackmail, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s03e03 His Last Vow, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, His Last Vow Spoilers, Jam, Lies, References to Shakespeare, Secrets, Story: His Last Bow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-26 12:42:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1688756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FarGreenCountrySwiftSunrise/pseuds/FarGreenCountrySwiftSunrise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles Augustus Magnussen. The most powerful man in the Western World and probably beyond and the most despicable man that anyone of 221 Baker Street has ever met. To stop this man, it may cost Jareth and everyone he knows something they cannot pay. J/S. JAM.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Thin White Sleuth](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/51893) by Pika-la-Cynique. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Almighty Disclaimer   
> Oh Moffat and Gatiss and Thompson,   
> Henson and Doyle,   
> To you belongs all the characters   
> And none so for me!
> 
> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> Transcript by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/67234.html).

It was not every day that Dr. John Watson was called upon to be a “knight in wool-knitted armor” as Sarah would say. His neighbor’s son, Isaac, had gone missing again and was back on drugs. John had been asked to find him, starting first at a house that was falling apart and was known for hiding drug users while they were high. Much to John’s displeasure, Mary had decided to come along as well.

“No, you can’t come. You’re pregnant,” John had told her. 

“You can’t go. I’m pregnant,” Mary had retorted.

So, John found himself outside of a smack house with his pregnant wife in the car taking something out of the boot. Mary laughed as he tucked it into the top of his jeans.

“What is that?” Mary said.

“It’s a tire lever,” John said.

“Why?” Mary said.

“Because there were loads of smackheads in there, and one of them might need help with a tire. If there’s any trouble, just go. I’ll be fine.” He began to go towards the house.

“John. John!” He stopped and turned back around to face his wife. “It is a tiny bit sexy.”

“Yeah, I know,” John said nonchalantly.

John knocked heavily at the front door. A young man with a hood pulled over his head answered. “What do you want?”

After a nonsensical argument and the young man pulling out a knife, John ended up disarming the man. In the process, he hurt the man’s arm as he knocked him to the floor. 

“You broke my arm!” the man cried out.

“No, I sprained it,” John informed.

“It feels squishy! Is it supposed to feel squishy? Feel that!”

John squeezed the man’s arm. “Yeah, it’s a sprain. I’m a doctor. I know how to sprain people. Now where is Isaac Whitney?”

“I don’t know… Maybe upstairs”

“There you go. Wasn’t that easy?” John said as he made his way up the stairs.

“No. It’s really sore. You’re mental, you are,” the man said.

“No. Just used to a better class of criminal.”

&%&%&%

John was sickened with pity when he entered the large room. Many people were lying or sitting on rotten mattresses or against the wall. After a bit of searching, he found Isaac.

“Doctor Watson?” Isaac asked.

“Yep,” John said as he began his examination of the clearly high Isaac.

“Where am I?” Isaac asked.

“The arse-end of the universe with the scum of the Earth. Look at me,” John said.

“Have you come for me?”

“Do you think I know a lot of people here?” John asked.

A bottle of whiskey was shoved near John’s nose from the man lying near Isaac. “Do you have goblin ale, John? This stuff does not get me drunk enough.”

&%&%&%

Isaac stumbled out of the house first and got into the Watsons’ car. Soon after, the temporary door of the house was knocked down. Jareth half-tumbled his way toward the car. John had never seen Jareth clumsy. He had no idea what the goblin had been up to save that it was not good.

“I’m on a case!” Jareth said.

“And what does Sarah have to say about all of this!” John said. He grabbed the bottle Jareth had and threw it against the house.

“Sarah knows that I am not doing anything that will kill me,” Jareth said.

“YOU ARE A BLOODY ADDICT IN A DRUG DEN! HOW IS THAT NOT GOING TO KILL YOU?” John shouted.

Mary drove the car up next to them. She ordered, “In. Both of you, quickly.”

The young man from before hurried over to the car as Jareth fell into the backseat and John sat in the front. “Please. Can I come? I think I’ve got a broken arm.”

“No. Go away,” Mary said.

John said, “No, let him.”

“Why?” Mary said.

“Let Billy in,” Jareth grumbled.

“Yeah, just get in. It’s a sprain,” John said.

Billy dove into the car just before Mary drove away.

“We’re not going home,” John said, “We’re going to Bart’s. I’m calling Molly.”

“Why?” Mary asked.

“Because the fearsome once and future Goblin King needs to pee in a jar,” John said.

Jareth aimed to hit his head against the headrest but ended up banging his head against the window instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oh dear. Whatever has Jareth gotten himself into?


	2. Chapter I: Cold Turkey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> Transcript by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/67234.html).

Sarah felt a tap on her shoulder as she was walking down a hallway in Bart’s. She turned and saw Mary Watson.

“What’s wrong?” Sarah said.

“It’s Jareth. We found him in a smack house. We’re testing him for drugs right now,” Mary said.

“Where is he?” Sarah huffed.

“I’ll show you,” Mary said, “Has he been acting odd lately?”

“He is always odd,” Sarah said.

“Sarah…”

“He has been going off on his own more than usual. Unusually restless. Well, more restless,” Sarah said. 

Mary took Sarah’s arm through her own and squeezed it reassuringly. “He said he was on a case…”

Sarah said nothing in response except to pat Mary’s arm.

&%&%&%

Molly finished up a test in her lab. Two young men sat on a bench, one of them with a bandage around his arm. John stood by Jareth, neither looking back when Mary and Sarah entered. Molly took off her gloves.

“Well? Is he clean?” John asked.

Molly threw her gloves away and walked towards Jareth. She slapped him hard. “How are you alive let alone standing? That much alcohol kills people.”

“Goblin,” Jareth said with a smirk, earning two more slaps from Molly.

“How dare you, Jareth? You could destroy all those beautiful gifts you were born with. And how dare you betray the love of your friends and family? Say you’re sorry.”

Jareth rubbed one of his cheeks. “Sorry your engagement’s over… though I’m grateful for the lack of a ring.”

“Jareth,” Sarah said firmly.

The goblin looked back at Sarah, “Hello, precious. You look very sexy.”

“And you look very drunk,” Sarah replied.

Jareth thought about it for a moment before realizing it was not a compliment.

“You could have come to us,” John said, “Sherlock, Molly, or even, I don’t know, your wife.”

Jareth stretched and almost fell backwards. “Please do relax. This is all for a case.”

John looked ready to do a remodeling of Jareth’s face. “What kind of case would need you doing this?”

“I might as well ask you why you’ve started cycling to work,” Jareth said. He shakily sat down on a rolling chair.

“No. We’re not playing this game,” John said.

“Quite recently, I’d say. You’re very determined about it,” Jareth said.

“Not interested,” John said.

“I am,” Billy said, “Is it his shirt?

Jareth tried to push the rolling chair over to Billy, but he fell on his face. He waved a hand. “Continue.”

“Well, it’s the creases, isn’t it?” the young man said, “The two creases down the front. It’s been recently folded but it’s not new. Must have dressed in a hurry this morning so all your shirts must be kept like that. But why? Maybe ’cause you cycle to work every morning, shower when you get there an’ then dress in the clothes you brought with you. You keep your shirts folded ready to pack.”

Jareth still had not moved off the floor. “Not bad.”

“And I further deduce you’ve only started recently, because you’ve got a bit of chafing,” the young man said.

“He’s always walked like that,” Sarah and Jareth said at the same time.

Jareth raised his head slightly. “What’s your real name again? Don’t lie. I’ll know.”

“Bill. Bill Wiggins,” the young man said.

“Nice observational skills, Billy,” Sarah said, “Can you deduce what I am going to do to my husband?”

Before Billy could respond, Sarah pulled Jareth to his feet and led him out of the room. The group followed them.

“Are we getting alone time, precious?” Jareth asked.

“Not exactly,” Sarah said.

She pulled him into a locker room and made him stand in a shower shall. “Now really Sarah, with an audience?”

Sarah turned on the shower to icy cold and jumped back just as the water hit Jareth. 

Jareth jumped and yelped but stayed under the cold water. His eyes were wide open and he was panting. 

“What was that for?” Jareth said.

“Cold turkey,” Sarah said, “No alcohol. No cigarettes. (Yes, I can smell that you have been smoking you idiot.) Oh, and no me. If want a little… diversion, you’ll have to do it yourself.”

Jareth glared at her as he shivered under the cold spray of water. John looked ready to burst from holding back laughter.

“Oh, and your sister is going to know,” Sarah said.

Jareth growled, but Sarah smiled. “I can handle him from here. John, go down to the basement lockers and pick up my scrubs. Switch them in the scrubs machine for something Jareth’s size. My locker is 86 and the combination is my wedding.”

“Not safe, that,” Billy mumbled.

“Out!” Sarah said.

There was some dignified (and less dignified) scrambling out of the room. Sarah turned back to Jareth.

“How are you doing?” Sarah asked.

“Drunk,” Jareth said.

“How’s the case going?”

“Getting into the papers,” Jareth said. His teeth began to chatter.

Sarah turned up the heat of the shower until it was steaming. Jareth began stripping off his clothes.

“Sarah, are you really not going to…”

“Yes, Jareth. At least until you stop smelling so bad,” Sarah said.

Jareth leaned back against the shower wall and watched Sarah.

“Are you mad at me?” Sarah asked.

“No.”

“Do you still love me, even when you’re drunk?”

Jareth gave a genuine smile. “Forever and ever.”

&%&%&%

Sarah knew that John made the necessary phone calls so she could stay with Jareth. The rest of the day she was given off. Mary had taken care of Billy and Isaac before going home. John, Jareth, and Sarah got into a taxi with Jareth in the middle.

“You should bring John in,” Sarah whispered.

Jareth sighed but did as he was asked. “You’ve heard of Charles Augustus Magnussen, of course.”

“Yeah. Owns some newspapers – ones I don’t read,” John said.

Jareth frowned and squinted as they came to a stop at 221 Baker Street.

“What is Mycroft doing here?” Jareth said.

Sarah gave some money to the taxi driver as Jareth shoved John out of the cab. She shimmied her way out of the taxi and ran behind Jareth.

“He’s straightened the knocker. He always corrects it. He’s OCD. Doesn’t even know he’s doing it,” Jareth said. He tilted the door knocker to the side before letting himself in.

Sarah knew it was a serious situation, but she could not help but giggle at how exasperated Jareth was to see Mycroft sitting on the staircase.

“Well, then, Jareth. Back on the bottle?” Mycroft said.

“What are you doing here?” Jareth growled.

“I phoned him,” John said.

“The siren call of old habits. I thought we agreed that you would stay clean,” Mycroft said.

“I am clean, but drunk. Ask Molly,” Jareth said. He glared at John. “You phoned him.”

“Of course I bloody phoned him,” John said.

“Of course he bloody did. Now, save me a little time. Where should we be looking?” Mycroft said.

Jareth was about to ask a question when Anderson said from 221B, “Mr. Holmes?”

“For God’s sake!” Jareth huffed as he ran up the stairs, pushing Mycroft aside.

The rest followed. Anderson was wearing gloves as he examined things in the kitchen-that-was-more-of-a-Frankenstein-laboratory. “I’m sorry, Jareth. It’s for your own good.”

Jareth huffed again before throwing himself into his chair. “This is my flat so stop touching my things!”

Sarah felt someone poke her shoulder. “Make me,” Joanna said.

“GARG! JOANNA YOU FOUL CREATURE!” Jareth shouted as he sat up, “WHY ARE YOU HERE?” He tried to walk towards her but fell on his face.

Joanna knelt next to her brother. “Because, Jay…”

“Don’t call me that traitor!” Jareth said as he slammed his fist to the ground.

“Stop acting like a two-year-old and treating your alcohol like a bottle of milk. Maybe I will treat you like a rational creature then,” Joanna said.

Jareth pushed himself up and glared at Mycroft.

“Your first fan and the president of your fan club. Do be polite,” Mycroft said, “They are willing to search through the toxic waste dump that you are pleased to call a flat. You’re a celebrity these days, Jareth. You can’t afford a drug habit.”

“I do not have a drug habit,” Jareth said.

Joanna held back a laugh as she stood up. “Sorry, but you are not the one who realizes these things very well, baby brother.”

“Not. A. Baby,” Jareth said.

Mycroft turned to Anderson. “What have you found so far? Clearly nothing.”

“Nothing to find,” Jareth said with a wave of his hand, “Even if I did have a drug habit, do you really think I would keep it some place Sarah could find it? This is not what you think. This is for a case.”

“What case could possibly justify this?” Joanna said as she motioned at Jareth.

“Magnussen,” Jareth said as he sat up straight, “Charles Augustus Magnussen.”

After a moment of silence, Mycroft said to Anderson, “That name you think you may have just heard – you were mistaken. If you ever mention hearing that name in this room, in this context, I guarantee you – on behalf of the British security services – that materials will be found on your computer hard drives resulting in your immediate incarceration. Don’t reply – just look frightened and scuttle.”

Anderson did just that.

Joanna glanced at Sarah. “Damn. You’re in on whatever plan he has.”

Sarah shrugged.

“I hope I won’t have to threaten you as well,” Mycroft said.

“Well, I think we’d both find that embarrassing, Mr. Umbrella,” Sarah said.

Jareth chuckled and slowly made his way to standing.

“Magnussen is not your business,” Mycroft said.

“Oh, you mean he’s yours,” Jareth said.

“You may consider him under my protection,” Mycroft said.

“I consider you under his thumb,” Jareth said.

There was a change in Mycroft’s tone that made Sarah feel like when she had a knife at her throat or a gun at her head. “If you go against Magnussen, then you will find yourself going against me.”

“I’ll let you know if I notice,” Jareth said.

Joanna took Jareth’s hand. “Magnussen does not know about the Underground, Jareth. Lady Adler did enough damage and she was just trying to survive. We cannot have him destroy what Rumpelstiltskin has been trying to rebuild these past few months.”

Jareth shook off Joanna’s hand. “Irene Adler, as you said, was trying to survive. Magnussen would make a dragon look generous. Never compare the two again. Get. Out. Of. My. Flat.”

Joanna looked to Sarah for support. 

“You know my feelings towards Irene,” Sarah said, “I am insulted that you compared her to Magnussen. Please leave, Joanna. There is nothing more you can do here. You have been heard and Jareth has elected to ignore it.”

Joanna nodded. She squeezed Jareth’s hand before disappearing out of the room. 

Jareth made his way to the kitchen door. “You too, Mycroft.”

Mycroft sighed, but made a move to leave. He stopped before Jareth. “This is unwise, friend.”

Jareth grabbed Mycroft left arm just below the elbow, twisted it up his back, and slammed him against the wall. “Friends do not threaten my wife.”

John came over to them. “Mycroft, don’t say another word. Just go. He could snap you in two, and right now I am slightly worried that he might.”

Jareth let Mycroft go. John said to Mycroft as he handed Mr. Holmes’ his umbrella, “Don’t speak. Just leave.”

After Mycroft left, Jareth moved into the living room and fell on the sofa. “Ugh. People.”

“Magnussen?” John said.

“What time is it?” Jareth asked.

“About eight,” John said.

Sarah pulled Jareth up and dragged him to their bedroom. “Come on, Jareth. You are meeting him in three hours.”

“It’s for a case, you said?” John asked.

“Yes,” Jareth said.

“What sort of case?” John said.

“Too big and dangerous for any sane individual to get involved in,” Jareth said.

“You trying to put me off?” John said.

Jareth smirked. “God, no. Trying to recruit you.” He winked at John before he closed the door to the bedroom, leaving Sarah with John.

“You know what’s going on?” John said.

“Yes,” Sarah said, “And no. Jareth has to tell you. It’s his case.”

“Is he even drunk?” John asked as they went into the kitchen for tea.

“Definitely. He generally doesn’t spend so much time staring at my chest so openly in front of people,” Sarah said.

Sarah heard footsteps coming from upstairs in the spare bedroom. She sighed as she did not want to have to deal with John’s questions about her guest.

Janine came down the stairs in one of Sherlock’s shirts. “Oh, John, hi. How are you?”

“Janine?” John asked, completely flabbergasted.

“Sorry. Not dressed,” Janine said, “Thanks for letting me stay here for the night, Sar. Best regards to Sherlock for borrowing the shirt.”

“Not a problem Janine,” Sarah said.

“Has everybody gone? I heard shouting,” Janine said.

“Yes, they’re gone,” Sarah said.

“God, look at the time. I’ll be late,” Janine said.

Sarah began working on another mug of tea.

“Sounded like an argument. Was it Mike?” Janine asked.

“Mike?” John asked.

“Mike, yeah. Sherlock’s brother, Mike. Jay and him are always fighting,” Janine said.

“Mycroft?” John asked as he looked to Sarah for help.

“Ooh, how’s Mary? How’s married life? “Janine asked.

“She’s fine. We’re both fine, yeah,” John said. 

Janine rummaged through the cupboards for digestive biscuits. John motioned to Sarah for an explanation. Sarah motioned back that she would explain later.

“Is that no good husband of yours around?” Janine asked.

“He is,” Jareth said. He leaned against the doorway in his black trousers and white shirt. “How ever did you end up here… in Sherlock’s shirt?”

“I just needed a place to stay. Date turned creepy and I didn’t want him to know where I lived,” Janine said.

Jareth sighed and went back to the bedroom.

“He’s a right and proper arse he is,” Janine said.

“Um… yes?” John said.

Janine kissed Sarah’s cheek. “Need anything, you can find me at work. Going to change and leave straight away.”

“Thank you, Janine,” Sarah said.

Janine rushed out of the kitchen back to the spare room. John looked at Sarah wide-eyed.

“She needed a place to stay,” Sarah said.

“What’s with her and Jareth?” John said.

“Part of the case,” Sarah said.

“What?” John said.

“You’ll find out sooner or later. Just not now and not from me,” Sarah said, “Either drink your tea or close your mouth. The goblins may decide to come by and throw objects into it.”

John did neither so Sarah shoved a digestive biscuit in his mouth.

&%&%&%

John drank his fourth cup of tea since entering 221B while he sat on the sofa. Jareth was putting on his black jacket while facing the mirror. Sarah was curled up in her seat. Sherlock had come by that point and was sprawled out on the floor.

“What are your questions, Dr. Watson?” Jareth said.

“What the bloody hell is going on here?” John asked.

Jareth fell on the sofa and messaged his temples. “Hangover already. Blast it.”

“Magnussen,” Sherlock prompted.

“Yes, Magnussen,” Jareth said. He looked over at John. “Magnussen is like a shark – it’s the only way I can describe him. Have you ever been to the shark tank at the London Aquarium, John – stood up close to the glass? Those floating flat faces, those dead eyes. That’s what he is. I’ve dealt with murderers, psychopaths, terrorists, serial killers, and much worse. None of them can turn my stomach like Charles Augustus Magnussen.”

“Yes, you have,” John said.

A brief image of Moriarty grinning as he threatened to blow her up passed through Sarah’s mind, but she quickly dismissed it. Magnussen was far more of a disturbing figure to her. Moriarty was chaos and Sarah had married a king to a chaotic race. Magnussen was greed, which was one of the few vices Jareth did not partake in.

Jareth ignored John’s comment. “You know Magnussen as a newspaper owner, but he’s so much more than that. He uses his power and wealth to gain information. The more he acquires, the greater his wealth and power.” He opened his laptop and brought up a photograph and blueprint of Magnussen’s house. “I’m not exaggerating when I say that he knows the critical pressure point on every person of note or influence in the whole of the Western world and probably beyond. He is the Napoleon of blackmail and he has created an unassailable architecture of forbidden knowledge. Its name... is Appledore.”

John looked unimpressed. “And?”

“I am going to snag some sweets from Mrs. Hudson,” Sarah said.

“Honestly? I’ve just told you that the Western world is run from this house and you do not see the value of that?” Jareth said.

Sarah did not need to hear the rest of the conversation. Jareth had already told her the night of John and Mary’s wedding. None of Magnussen’s information was on computers. It was all on hard copy in the vaults of Appledore. _“As long as it exists, the personal freedom of anyone you’ve ever met is a fantasy.”_

Magnussen was getting closer and closer to figuring out about the Underground. Several people had died rather than admit the existence of magic. If Charles Augustus Magnussen figured out there was a whole new world of power to gain, who knew what wretched things he would do.

By the time Sarah reached the kitchen, the doorbell rang and was answered by Mrs. Hudson. The landlady sounded distressed. Sarah grabbed a kitchen knife and pressed her ear against the door to the hallway. Mrs. Hudson made it up the stairs, stayed in 221B for a moment, and then returned.

Sarah heard four people walk up to 221B. The fourth did not move up as quickly as the others. Sarah slowly opened the door and saw Mrs. Hudson shaking in the chair by the stairs. She moved quietly out of the kitchen and motioned to Mrs. Hudson to be quiet.

“Who is it?” Sarah whispered.

“Three men in suits and… that man,” Mrs. Hudson said.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not pleased to see you,” John said somewhere in 221B.

“I can vouch for this man,” Jareth said, “He’s a doctor. If you know who I am, then you know who he is... don’t you, Mr. Magnussen?”

There was the quiet sound of footsteps as a man walked around 221B and finally settled to sit down on the sofa.

“I understood we were meeting at your office,” Jareth said.

“This is my office,” Charles Augustus Magnussen said, “Well, it is now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ugh. I hate this man. I never thought I would see the day that I missed Moriarty.


	3. Chapter II: Pressure Points

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> Transcript by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/67234.html).

Jareth and Sherlock were standing between the fireplace and the windows. John was near the kitchen. Magnussen’s body guards had just removed a tire lever and a knife from John Watson’s pockets.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not pleased to see you,” John said with a smirk worthy of a goblin.

“I can vouch for this man,” Jareth said, “He’s a doctor. If you know who I am, then you know who he is... don’t you, Mr. Magnussen?”

And there was the shark, perusing Jareth’s flat. The blackmailer decided to sit on the sofa.

“I understood we were meeting at your office,” Jareth said.

“This is my office,” Charles Augustus Magnussen said, “Well, it is now.” He picked up a newspaper.

“Mr. Magnussen, I have been asked to intercede with you by Lady Elizabeth Smallwood on the matter of her husband’s letters,” Jareth said. He felt his hangover become worse as Magnussen ignored him. “Some time ago you... put pressure on her concerning those letters. She would like those letters back.”

Charles Augustus Magnussen merely observed Jareth for several moments. Jareth did the same, but found nothing new to use. Magnussen’s only weak point was the vaults of Appledore.

Sherlock said, “Obviously the letters no longer have any practical use to you, so with that in mind...”

Magnussen was amused and that did not sit well with Jareth. The goblin said, “Was it something my partner said?”

“No, no. I was reading. There’s rather a lot,” Magnussen said, “Christiana Rossetti?”

Jareth was certain a punch in the throat would have hurt less than Magnussen knowing there was a connection between him and his niece.

“Sorry. You were probably talking?” Magnussen said.

“I…” Jareth felt off balance and tried to shake it off, “I was trying to explain that I’ve been asked to act on behalf of...”

Magnussen spoke to one of his bodyguards. “Bathroom?”

The security man nodded to his right. “Along from the kitchen, sir.”

Jareth resisted giving a huff of impatience. “I’ve been asked to negotiate the return of those letters. I’m aware you do not make copies of sensitive documents...”

Magnussen gestured around him. “Is it like the rest of the flat? “

“Sir?” the bodyguard said.

“The bathroom?” Magnussen said.

“Er, yes, sir,” the bodyguard replied.

“Maybe not, then,” Magnussen said.

“Am I acceptable to you as an intermediary?” Jareth said.

“Lady Elizabeth Smallwood. I like her.” Magnussen popped his lips several times. “Claire-de-la-lune perfume. A bit too young for her but… yum.”

Jareth realized that he was not dealing with someone who considered himself a businessman, but a king. In actuality, Magnussen was a hook worm. With a change in stance that was more open and tone more firm, he said, “Mr. Magnussen, am I acceptable to you as an intermediary?”

“She’s English, with a spine,” Magnussen said. 

Magnussen shoved the coffee table away from him with his right foot. Sherlock frowned slightly. The guard by Sherlock removed the fire guard from the unlit fireplace. Jareth glanced back. _Oh, he better not do what I think he is going to do._

Magnussen walked towards the fireplace. “Best thing about the English you’re so domesticated. All standing around, apologizing... keeping your little heads down.” He stopped in front of the fireplace and unzipped his trousers. “You can do what you like here. No one’s ever going to stop you.” He began to urinate. “A nation of herbivores. I’ve interests all over the world but, everything starts in England.” Magnussen stopped and began fixing himself. “If it works here I’ll try it in a real country.”

Jareth was well aware of what Magnussen was doing. It was what dogs did - marking their territory. 

One of the security guards held up a packet of wet wipes of which Magnussen took one to clean his hands. “The United Kingdom, huh? Petri dish to the Western world.”

“So, real country. America count?” Sarah said. She leaned against the wall between the front door and the kitchen.

Magnussen turned around and gave a far too familiar smile. “Sarah Williams-King. I’ve met your mother, Linda.”

Sarah shrugged. “Big whoop. So has almost everyone. Probably been under her skirt too. I couldn’t care less. Get out of my home. Good grief, did your mummy never teach you manners, Chucky?”

Magnussen walked towards Sarah. Jareth tried to move forward, but was stopped by a bodyguard who pressed a gun to his side.

“Do you know who I am?” Magnussen asked.

“Charles Augustus Magnussen,” Sarah said, mimicking his accent perfectly. She spoke in a tone she used with small children and goblins. “And you, sir, have urinated in my home. Excuse me if I don’t bring out the band because you’re a big boy and don’t have to pee sitting down.”

Sherlock and John were holding back laughter. Jareth was trying to signal to Sarah that what she was doing would not work.

“I believe you had a friend… Sidney Paget, wasn’t it?” Magnussen said.

“What about him?” Sarah said.

“I wonder how his son and daughter are faring,” Magnussen said.

Sarah finally broke eye contact. Magnussen stepped close enough to Sarah that they were almost touching. “You are just putting on a show of confidence. It doesn’t take me in. You are frightened.”

“We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be,” Sarah said, “You are doing the same thing, Mr. Magnussen.”

Magnussen sniffed her. “Rose soap. You’re what? Five or so months along?” He smiled. “I look forward to meeting him.”

The Napoleon of Blackmail turned back to Jareth. “Tell Lady Elizabeth I might need those letters, so I’m keeping them. Goodbye.” He put his hand into his inside jacket pocket and showed the edge of a packet of documents. “Anyway... they’re funny. Another day, Mrs. King.” He smiled and left with his men. He touched the hilt of a kitchen knife that had been stuck in the banister as he went down.

No one moved until they heard the front door closed downstairs. Jareth rushed to Sarah and wrapper her in his arms. He kissed her sporadically. 

“Are you alright?” Jareth asked.

“Fine. Fine,” Sarah said. She stilled his head and kissed him deeply. “Are you okay?”

“You shouldn’t have done that. Magnussen has no appreciation for spirit. He only breaks it. Even James liked spirit,” Jareth said quietly.

“Jareth, did you just compliment Jimmy?” Sarah said.

“I can appreciate talent and he liked Bach. He was not always evil. Even Sauron was not so,” Jareth said the last sentence in a deep voice that made Sarah laugh.

She gently smacked his arm. “You’re an absolute dork, you know that?”

“Did you notice the one extraordinary thing Magnussen did?” Sherlock said.

“There was a moment that kind of stuck in the mind, yeah,” John said dryly.

“When he showed us the letters,” Jareth said. He rested his head against Sarah’s, not looking at his friends. “He’s brought the letters to London – so no matter what he says, he’s ready to make a deal. Now, Magnussen only makes a deal once he’s established a person’s weaknesses – the ‘pressure point’, he calls it. So, clearly he believes none of us are a serious threat.”

Sherlock began putting on his coat and scarf. “And, of course, because he’s in town tonight, the letters will be in his safe in his London office while he’s out to dinner with the Marketing Group of Great Britain from seven until ten.”

“How do you know his schedule?” John asked.

“Because I do. I’m off. Have evil deeds to do,” Sherlock said as he ran out the door.

“What’s tonight?” John asked.

“I’ll text instructions,” Jareth said.

“Yeah, I’ll text you if I’m available,” John said.

“You are. I checked,” Sarah said.

John groaned and left, conceding defeat.

Jareth picked up Sarah and carried her to their bed. He lay beside her and stroked her face. “Precious, I’m sorry. I did not realize he would come here.”

“It’s alright. I’m not hurt,” Sarah said. She kissed his hand.

“You told me about Sidney. You were fond of him,” Jareth said.

“Very much. He loved his children,” Sarah said.

Jareth rested his head against Sarah’s. “You did what you had to.”

“His family won’t see it that way. I killed him, Jareth.”

“In self-defense.”

“Barely. He hadn’t even drawn his gun. He just had his hand on it and I stabbed him,” Sarah said.

Jareth tilted Sarah’s head up and he made sure her eyes were fixed on his. “You. Did. Nothing. Wrong.”

“I did everything wrong,” Sarah said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And a glitter sofa to whoever guesses who Sidney Paget is named after.


	4. Chapter III: Keep Calm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> Transcript by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/67234.html).

That evening, John was forced into a taxi with Jareth and Sarah for the second time that day. They were in the same seating as before, only this time Jareth had his arm around Sarah’s shoulders.

“Time you got out of the house, John. You’ve put on seven pounds since you got married, and the cycling isn’t doing it,” Jareth said.

“It’s actually four pounds,” John said.

“Mary and I think seven,” Sarah said.

“Are you all conspiring against me?” John said.

“Yes,” Jareth and Sarah said.

&%&%&%

The three walked towards the entrance of CAM Global News which was housed in a skyscraper. They made it through the lobby using a security card that Sarah had.

Jareth explained the plan as they walked. “Sherlock is distracting Mycroft while we are doing this. Magnussen’s office is on the top floor, just below his private flat, but there are fourteen levels of security between us and him, two of which aren’t even legal in this country. Want to know how we’re going to break in?”

“Is that what we’re doing?” John asked.

“Of course it’s what we’re doing,” Jareth said, “You do not desecrate my home and expect for there not to be retaliation.”

“So… now it’s a pissing match?” John said.

Jareth smacked the back of John’s head. “Hardly. He would lose as soon as I dropped my...”

Sarah smacked the back of Jareth’s head after that comment.

&%&%&%

A bit later, Jareth continued. “Magnussen’s private lift goes straight to his penthouse and office. Only he uses it and only his key card calls the lift. Anyone else even tries, security is automatically informed.”

Sarah held up a card. “Standard key card for the building. Nicked it yesterday. Only gets us as far as the cafeteria.” They stopped at the lift. “Here we go, then.”

“If we were to use this card on that lift now, what happens?” Jareth said.

“Er, the alarms would go off and you’d be dragged away by security,” John said, “Get taken to a small room somewhere and your head kicked in.”

“Do we really need so much color?” Jareth said.

“It passes the time,” John said.

Jareth frowned at John. Sarah held up the security card against her phone. “If you press a key card against your cell phone for long enough, it corrupts the magnetic strip. The card stops working. It’s a common problem – never put your key card with your phone. What happens if I use the card now?”

“It still doesn’t work,” John said.

“But it doesn’t read as the wrong card now,” Jareth said, “It registers as corrupted. But if it’s corrupted, how do they know it’s not Magnussen? Would they risk dragging him off?”

“Probably not,” John said.

“So what do they do? What do they have to do?” Jareth said.

“Check if it’s him or not,” John said.

“There’s a camera at eye height to the right of the door,” Jareth said, “A live picture of the card user is relayed directly to Magnussen’s personal staff in his office – the only people trusted to make a positive ID. At this hour, almost certainly his PA.”

“So how’s that help us?” John asked.

“Human error,” Jareth said.

Jareth made John step back away from the camera. Sarah waved her hands by her eyes. “The Doctor regenerating. The Ponds dying. Any death in LOTR. The _Merlin_ finale.”

Almost instantly, Sarah had tears flowing down her cheeks. She swiped the card.

Over the intercom could he heard Janine’s voice. “Sar, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, Janine. I didn’t know where else to go. Jareth said he would kill me if the baby wasn’t a boy. I can’t go to the police because he’s friends with the Yard and everyone else I know loves him and wouldn’t believe a word I said. Please, Janine. I need a place to hide.”

“Oh, Sar, come on up,” Janine said.

The elevator door opened. Sarah stepped inside and when she turned around the tears were gone. “And I’m a terrible actress.”

John was dumbstruck as Jareth pulled him into the lift. 

“You see? As long as there’s people, there’s always a weak spot,” Jareth said.

“That was Janine,” John said.

“Yes, of course it was Janine. She’s Magnussen’s PA. That’s the whole point,” Sarah said.

“So that’s why Jareth made her hate him,” John said.

“Of course. I could make everyone love me if I bothered,” Jareth said, “Stroke of luck meeting her at your wedding. You can take some of the credit.”

“Good god! You just used abuse to get into an office you bastards!” John said.

“I know. I’m a terrible person,” Sarah said.

Sarah walked into the office first, stopped, and tilted her head. “Jareth, something is wrong.”

Jareth walked over to the window and crouched to the ground. “Janine has taken a blow to the head, but she’s still breathing.”

The nurse and the doctor ran over and knelt beside Janine. They began examining Janine and she moaned to show that she was partially awake.

Jareth looked behind them. “Another in here.” He knelt down not to a suited man lying face down on the floor. “Security.”

“Does he need help?” Sarah asked.

“Ex-con. White supremacist, by the tattoo, so who cares? Stick with Janine,” Jareth said.

Sarah went over to the security guard.

“Sarah…”

“John is taking care of Janine and she is cognate. This man is not. You may get to choose your clients, but I don’t,” Sarah said.

Jareth investigated the desk near the security guard.

“Hey. They must still be here,” Sarah whispered.

“So is Magnussen. His seat’s still warm. He should be at dinner but he’s still in the building. Upstairs!” Jareth whispered as well.

“We should call the police,” John said.

Jareth said in a loud whisper, “During our own burglary? You’re really not a natural at this, are you? No, wait, shh!” He took a couple of sniffs of the air. “Claire-de-la-lune. Why do I know it?”

“Mary wears it,” John whispered.

“No, not Mary. Lady Elizabeth Smallwood,” Jareth said. He paused for a moment before going up the stairs.

“Jareth, no!” Sarah said.

He ignored her and did anyway.

&%&%&%

After making sure the security guard was not dead, Sarah came up the stairs to the small flat. She saw that a door was open and went to it. “Jareth, I hope you aren’t monologuing him. That didn’t work out too well last… time.” 

The first thought when Sarah saw the scene was _It has to be a trick_. And then the horrible realization that it was real crashed over her. 

“JOHN! JARETH’S BEEN SHOT! CALL AN AMBULANCE!”

Sarah knelt next to where Jareth was lying on the floor. With the knife in her boot, she ripped open Jareth’s shirt to see the bullet wound. Sarah removed Jareth’s green scarf and began applying pressure to the wound.

“It’s okay, Jareth. You’ll be okay. Just stay with me, okay.” Sarah’s vision blurred from her tears. “Please don’t go. Please don’t leave us. Please. Please don’t be dead.”

“Nurse, are you applying pressure to the wound?” John asked as he knelt down next to her.

“Yes, doctor,” Sarah said.

Something shifted in Sarah when John started giving orders. Her training as a nurse kicked in and she was able to stay calm until the EMTs arrived. Her magic was barely working as every time she tried to tell a story, her throat would close up. Magnussen was passed out in a corner, but that barely registered to Sarah.

When the EMTs tried to separate Sarah from Jareth, John informed them about her work in ER and combat, as well as John being a doctor and being able to bark orders a bit more than Sarah could. She worked with the EMTs as they made their way to the nearest hospital, unfortunately not Bart’s.

The ER nurse that greeted them after getting the story, began important questions. “Any allergies or…”

“He has a rare blood disorder,” Sarah said, thinking of how iron effected Fair Folk, “I will need to call his sister. She has the same blood type or Christiana or Dante.”

“Ma’am, off,” the ER nurse said.

Sarah shook her head. “I am not letting go until he is in surgery.”

“Ma’am,” the ER nurse began.

“Get. Me. The. Surgeon. Or. You. Will. Regret. It.”

They immediately wheeled her off to the OR. There was a viewing area, so Sarah was willing to release Jareth into the care of the surgeon and his team. She ran to the window, not bothering to clean the blood off her hands.

“I wish a goblin would come to me right now,” Sarah said.

After a moment of agony, she felt a slight tug at her jeans. Sarah looked down and saw a nervous goblin.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” the goblin said as he looked at her bloody hands.

“I need you to tell the Goblin King a message,” Sarah said, “Tell her that Jareth needs blood immediately.”

“Lord Jareth is hurt?” the goblin cried.

“He is. Go. Now,” Sarah said.

The goblin poofed out of the hallway. Sarah looked up and saw the team beginning to put a breathing tube in Jareth’s throat. She began to vomit violently.

As she gasped for breath, she felt a warm hand rub circles around her shoulders.

“You really shouldn’t be here, Sarah,” John said.

“You got here fast,” Sarah said, not daring to look up from the sink she had vomited in.

“Sarah, you don’t want to…”

“I lost him once. I’m never doing that again.”

Sarah looked up. Her view was mostly blocked by the backs of the operating team, but from the speed of their movements and how intently they were looking at the monitors and Jareth, she was certain they were giving their best effort.

A nurse stuck her head into the OR to tell the team that a niece and a sister were donating blood as she spoke, though a nephew and brother-in-law were also there who had the wrong blood type. Sarah breathed a little easier.

_The blood is coming. He’ll be okay._

Sarah began whispering stories about goblin kings and girls who challenged them, daring detectives and cunning criminals, quiet words and promises of forever.

Two pints of blood arrived. Sarah was becoming hopeful that Jareth would be safe. It would just be another adventure that they made it through where he would discover the dastardly villain and stop their evil deeds.

Then Jareth flat lined.

Sarah covered her mouth as she tried not to scream. John tried to pull her away, but Sarah refused to move.

“Please, no. Stop being dead. Stop it.”

After a few minutes of attempted resuscitation, the surgeon stopped his work. 

The doctor was about to call the time of death when the heart rate monitor began to beep again. Sarah could see Jareth gasp as his eyes opened.

John was the only reason Sarah did not collapse to the floor. “That’s it. You’re going into shock. Come on.”

Sarah did not remember how she got there, but she was lying on a gurney and being covered in hot blankets. John was giving orders to the nurses. She barely felt the prick of the IV going into her hand for the saline drip.

“I’m so cold, John,” Sarah said.

“I know. We’re working on it,” John said.

Feminine hands began stroking her head. “Sarah, how is my brother?”

Sarah shut her eyes as she refused to cry. 

“He is still alive, but he is in critical condition. Still in surgery,” John said.

“Is that his…” Joanna’s voice choked.

“Yes,” John said, “Sarah wasn’t hurt, but I am worried about the stress on the baby.”

Joanna kept stroking Sarah’s hair. “Sarah, I need to do something very personal and only if you are comfortable allowing me to do it; I need to check on the baby.”

Sarah nodded, her eyes still closed. Joanna placed one hand over where Sarah’s son rested and the other hand remained on Sarah’s head. Sarah felt something gently searching her insides and a different magic than she knew brushing up against her own.

“The baby is well,” Joanna said, “You need to focus on yourself now. There is nothing else you can do.” She kissed Sarah’s forehead. “I know that you have done everything to save him, Champion.”

A nurse from the surgeon’s team came up to them. “Family of Jareth King?”

“Yes,” John said.

“He is out of surgery, but is still critical. You can’t see him right now, but we thought you should know,” the nurse said.

“Thank you,” John said.

“Dr. Watson, I need something to clean Sarah. Then go tell my family about Jareth. They are in the waiting room,” Joanna said.

Sarah giggled as an image popped into her head. “Are they in full armor?”

Joanna chuckled. “No, but they threatened to.”

&%&%&%

It was five days before Jareth could breathe on his own again. Sarah spent every moment she could with him save for work. She went to Bart’s so she would not go crazy from the waiting. Joanna or Mary stayed with Jareth when Sarah could not.

It was seven days after the shooting when Sarah received a call at work from Joanna. 

“What’s wrong?” Sarah asked.

“I went down to the cafeteria for some tea. When I came back up, Jareth was having a rather snarky conversation with your friend Janine about some stories she sold to the newspapers about him,” Joanna said, relief evident in her voice.

“He’s awake?”

“Yes, my bratty little brother is awake.”

&%&%&%

Joanna left Jareth’s room as Sarah entered. The Seelie High Queen had a smile on her face and practically danced down the hallway.

“Hello, precious,” Jareth said, his voice raspy and sore from the breathing tube.

Sarah kissed him repeatedly as she tried not to cry. He was still weak and could only stroke her back and arms slowly.

“Don’t. Do. That. Again.” Sarah said as she gave a kiss for each word.

“Trust me, this is not an experience I want to go through again,” Jareth said. He rubbed her stomach. “I am so sorry, Sarah.”

“I’m just glad you’re here,” Sarah said. She rested her head against his. “I was so scared, Jareth.”

“So was I,” Jareth said, “Keep calm and carry on. Stiff upper lip and all that.”

Sarah kissed his forehead. She sighed. “Is there something I can get you? Something you want to ask?”

“Why did you give me a rose?” Jareth asked.

Sarah looked back at the single red rose in a crystal vase on the movable tray at the foot of Jareth’s bed. “That isn’t from me.”

“Who would give me a red rose then?” Jareth said.

Sarah glared at the rose. “I know who would.”

“Who is… oh. _Her_.”

“Yes,” Sarah said. She rubbed her growing belly. “Does she understand boundaries at all?”

“Well, she could have just poisoned me,” Jareth said, “This is rather an improvement.”

Sarah stroked Jareth’s hair. “Jareth… do you know who…”

Jareth did not respond for a moment. “Perhaps… perhaps not. I am still figuring it out.”

Sarah kissed him again. “I know you will solve it, my dear detective.”

&%&%&%

Sarah left after an hour to go back to work. That evening, she received a phone call from John. “Jareth has escaped from the hospital through the damn window!”

“Why?” Sarah said.

“We don’t know. Go home and we will talk about all the places he could go,” John said, “Lestrade is talking to Mycroft right now.”

&%&%&%

Mrs. Hudson was in charge of tea and told them about the supposed “Big Ben” hideout Jareth had. Sherlock ran around London itself to various hiding places Jareth had told Sherlock about. Lestrade took the ones Mycroft knew. Goblins checked some of the more magically protected places. Dante asked Jareth’s allies about possible spots. John was keeping track of everyone.

“I have to do something,” Sarah said. She sat in Jareth’s chair while John sat across from her.

“You’ve already told us everything you know. You can’t be running around out there. Besides, if he is going to contact any of us, it will probably be you unless something bad will happen if he does try to talk to you,” John said.

“I am not going to wait for him to turn up dead. What if his stitches rip? What if he starts bleeding internally? What if whoever shot him tries to hurt him again?”

John leaned forward and squeezed Sarah’s hand. “Jareth has his reasons, you know it.”

Sarah nodded and bit her lip. John leaned back in his chair and sighed. He stiffened when he noticed a crescent shaped perfume bottle on the table next to him.

“Claire-de-la-lune,” John said quietly. He furrowed his brow and then stood up. “Sarah, you’re in charge. I have an idea.”

“Oh, come on!” Sarah said.

“Sarah, he would have contacted you if he could,” John said.

“But why does he need you?” Sarah said.

John shook his head. “I need him.”

“What?” Sarah said.

“That’s Mary’s perfume. She’s in danger,” John said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I overplayed “Tiptoe” by Imagine Dragons while working on this chapter. The rose coming from Irene was from the mouth of Arwel Wyn Jones, production designer for _Sherlock_.
> 
> Also, something that bugged me was Sherlock’s voice after having a breathing tube down his throat. I have seen people enough times after a breathing tube to know that your voice gets very scratchy and it takes a bit of time to heal, like after a cold so bad you wished you could rip out your lungs.


	5. Chapter IV: And Carry On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> Transcript by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/67234.html).

Jareth had not seen this scenario. Even knowing some of the facts, it was far too unreal. As Jareth waited for his shooter to take the cell phone from Billy, he thought over how he had been shot.

&%&%&%

_“Hey. They must still be here,” Sarah whispered._

_“So is Magnussen. His seat’s still warm. He should be at dinner but he’s still in the building. Upstairs!” Jareth whispered as well._

_“We should call the police,” John said._

_Jareth said in a loud whisper, “During our own burglary? You’re really not a natural at this, are you? No, wait, shh!” He took a couple of sniffs of the air. “Claire-de-la-lune. Why do I know it?”_

_“Mary wears it,” John whispered._

_“No, not Mary. Lady Elizabeth Smallwood,” Jareth said. He paused for a moment before going up the stairs._

_“Jareth, no!” Sarah said._

_He ignored her and did anyway._

_Jareth treaded softly down the carpeted hall of Magnussen’s pent house. He heard Magnussen speaking quietly, but with an underlining sound of fear inside a room with a partially opened door._

_“What would your husband think, eh? He... your lovely husband, upright, honorable...” Jareth looked in the room and saw a figure clad in black pointing a gun at Magnussen while Charles was kneeling on the floor with his hands behind his head. “...so English. What would he say to you now?”_

_The person in black raised their gun. Despite wanting this to play out, Jareth knew he could not get to the vaults without Magnussen._

_“No, no! You’re doing this to protect him from the truth... but is this protection he would want?” Magnussen said._

_Jareth stood behind the gunman. Their head was covered with a black knitted cap and the only thing Jareth could identify them with was that the person was small and pale._

_“Additionally, if you’re going to commit murder, you might consider changing your perfume Lady Smallwood,” Jareth said, smiling slightly._

_Magnussen looked at Jareth in confusion. “Sorry. Who? That’s... not... Lady Smallwood, Mr. King.”_

_The person in black turned around and aimed their gun at Jareth._

_“Mary?” Jareth said._

_The petite blonde spoke calmly. “Is John with you?”_

_“What?” Jareth said, still trying to figure out how he could have missed this._

_“Is John here?” Mary asked more firmly._

_“He, um, he’s downstairs with Sarah,” Jareth said._

_Magnussen said softly, “So, what do you do now? Kill us both?”_

_Jareth took one step forward. “Mary, whatever he’s got on you, let me help. I am sure there is a reasonable…”_

_“Oh, Jareth, if you take one more step I swear I will kill you,” Mary said._

_Jareth shook his head and smiled. “No, Mrs. Watson. You won’t.”_

_Almost as soon as Jareth began to take a step forward, he stopped. Something was wrong. He looked down and saw blood began to pour out of his chest, slightly to the right of his shirt buttons. Jareth looked up, but began to have problems with his sight._

_“I’m sorry, Jareth. I truly am,” Mary said, her voice shaking._

_“Mary?”_

_That was when Jareth’s mind took over, fighting to save him._

_The world froze and alarms began to go off. Molly appeared in Magnussen’s room._

_She smiled at Jareth as she walked around him. “It’s not like it is in the movies. There’s not a great big spurt of blood and you go flying backwards. The impact isn’t spread over a wide area.” She stopped smiling as the room changed to the mortuary. She pulled back the sheet of a covered body, which was Jareth’s. “It’s tightly focused, so there’s little or no energy transfer. You stay still and the bullet pushes through.”_

_Jareth examined the bullet hole in the dead Jareth._

_“You’re almost certainly going to die, so we need to focus. I said focus.” She slapped him three times. “It’s all well and clever having a Mind Palace, but you’ve only three seconds of consciousness left to use it. So, come on. What’s going to kill you?”_

_After a moment, Jareth said, “Blood loss.”_

_“Exactly,” Molly said, “So, it’s all about one thing now. Forwards, or backwards? We need to decide which way you’re going to fall.”_

_Jareth found himself still in Magnussen’s room, though Mary and Charles were still frozen. Anderson stood behind Jareth. “One hole or two?”_

_“Sorry?” Jareth said._

_“Is the bullet still inside you or is there an exit wound?” Molly said, “It’ll depend on the gun.”_

_Jareth tried to remember the gun, but he was becoming more and more confused._

_“Jareth, stop focusing on the unimportant,” Rumpelstiltskin said as he appeared by Jareth’s side, “It does not matter about the gun. Do not be stupid. Be a clever little goblin. It does not matter about the gun.”_

_“Why not?” Jareth asked._

_“You saw the whole room when you entered it. What was directly behind you? If the bullet had passed through you, what would you have heard?” Rumpelstiltskin said._

_“The mirror shattering,” Jareth said, “The bullet is still inside me.”_

_“So, we need to take him down backwards,” Anderson said._

_“I agree. Jareth,” Molly said, “You need to fall on your back.”_

_“Right now, the bullet is the cork in the bottle. The bullet itself is blocking most of the blood flow. but any pressure or impact on the entrance wound could dislodge it,” Anderson said._

_Molly stood behind Jareth. “Plus, on your back, gravity’s working for us.”_

_“Fall now, fly later,” Rumpelstiltskin said._

_And Jareth did fall. Before he fell completely, the alarms went off._

_Jareth found himself in the morgue once again, looking down at his body with Molly. “What the hell is that? What’s happening?”_

_“You’re going into shock,” Molly said, “It’s the next thing that’s going to kill you.”_

_“What do I do?” Jareth asked._

_Dante leaned against a wall. “Don’t go into shock, obviously.”_

_Christiana appeared next to her uncle and squeezed his hand. “There must be something in this ridiculous memory palace of yours that can calm you down. Find it.”_

_Jareth found himself in the Labyrinth. He could tell from the way the hedges looked around him that he was only about five years old. He began to run. He crashed into a person._

_Joanna looked down at her brother and smiled. She picked him up and held him close. “Hello, Jay. What are you running from?”_

_“I’m going to die,” Jareth said._

_“No, shush. You’re not,” Joanna said, “You are going to live. You will be happy. You will get married to a woman who thinks you are wonderful and then you will have lots of children. You will live. You will really live.”_

_“Promise, Jo?” Jareth asked._

_“I promise, Jareth,” Joanna said._

_Jareth found himself back in Magnussen’s room, convulsing. He tried to scream, but no noise came from him._

_“Without the shock, you’re going to feel the pain,” Molly said. “There’s a hole ripped through you. Massive internal bleeding. You have to control the pain.”_

_Jareth went to the deepest parts of his mind. The place he never wanted to go, but had to keep. He entered a padded room where a man in a strait jacket was crouched away from the door._

_“You. You never felt pain, did you? Why did you never feel pain?” Jareth said, “Not even in the end.”_

_Jim Moriarty turned towards Jareth. “You always feel it, Jareth.” He tried to attack the goblin, but was barely kept back by a collar and chain attached to the wall opposite of the door. “But you don’t have to fear it!”_

_Jareth doubled over in pain and screamed._

_James stood over Jareth. “Pain. Heartbreak. Loss. Death. It’s all good. It’s all good.”_

_Jareth’s convulsions began to slow._

_Moriarty sang. “It’s raining. It’s pouring. Jareth is boring. I’m laughing. I’m crying. Jareth is dying.” He breathed heavily against Jareth’s face, still unable to touch him. “Come on, Jareth. Just die, why don’t you? One little push, and off you pop.”_

_Jareth felt himself letting go of life._

_“You’re going to love being dead, Jareth. No one ever bothers you,” James Moriarty said, “Mrs. Hudson will cry; and your entire family will cry; and Lady Adler will cry; Sherlock might go mad; John will be left with his murderous wife.”_

_Everything was becoming dimmer._

_“And Sarah will cry buckets and buckets. It’s her that I worry about most. Who knows what the shock might do to your baby…” Jim said quietly, “Your Champion, the person who loves you most, will have to watch you die… again. She’ll be all alone… again.”_

_**Stop being dead.** _

_Jareth gasped. He clawed at the walls and began to get up._

_“Oh, you’re not getting better, are you?” Jim said._

_Jareth stood up._

_“Was it something I said, huh?”_

_Jareth glared at Moriarty and made his way out of the room. The detective could hear Moriarty screaming for him to stay. Jareth crawled his way up the stairs, getting away from the death that was with Moriarty._

_“SARAH!”_

_& %&%&%_

_When Jareth opened his eyes, everything was blurry. He could see the outline of an IV drip._

_“You don’t tell him,” Mary said softly, “Jareth? You don’t tell John. Look at me – and tell me you’re not going tell him.”_

_Jareth blacked out again._

&%&%&%

Jareth was brought back to the present when he received a text from Billy saying that Mary had the phone. The goblin called her.

“Where are you?” Mary asked over the phone.

“Can’t you see me?” Jareth asked.

“Well, what am I looking for?” Mary said.

“Not everything is at it seems in this place. The lie of Leinster Gardens is hidden in plain sight. Hardly anyone notices. People live here for years and never see it. If you are what I think you are, it’ll take you less than a minute. The houses, Mary. Look at the houses.”

“How did you know I’d come here?” Mary asked.

“I knew you’d talk to the people no one else would bother with.”

Mary laughed for a moment. “I thought I was being clever.”

“You’re always clever, Mary. I was relying on that. I planted the information for you to find.”

Mary stopped where she was supposed to. “Oooooh.”

“Thirty seconds. Not bad,” Jareth said.

“What am I looking at?”

“No door knobs, no letter box, painted windows. Twenty-three and twenty-four Leinster Gardens… the empty houses. They were demolished years ago to make way for the London Underground, a vent for the old steam trains. Rode those a few times. Only the very front section of the house remains. It’s just a façade. Remind you of anyone, Mary? A façade.”

Jareth made the projector turn on. Across the two empty houses was projected a head shot of Mary taken on her wedding day.

“Sherlock gets his drama queen tendencies in equal parts from me and Mycroft. Do come in. It’s a little cramped.”

Mary began to walk towards the houses. “Do you own this place?”

“I won it in a card game with the Clarence House Cannibal. Nearly cost me my kidneys, but fortunately I had a... straight flush. Quite a gambler, that woman.” 

Mrs. Watson walked into the small hallway. It was lit on her side, but at the far end of the hallway was a man sitting on a chair in the shadows under the light. “What do you want Jareth?”

“Mary Morstan was stillborn in October 1972. Her gravestone is in Chiswick Cemetery where – five years ago – you acquired her name and date of birth and thereafter her identity. That’s why you don’t have ‘friends’ from before that date.”

She continued to walk down the hallway.

“It’s an old enough technique, known to the kinds of people who can recognize a skip-code on sight... have extraordinarily retentive memories, like when you remembered which room Major Sholto was in.”

Mary stopped in the middle of the hallway. “You were very slow. I heard stories about you, Goblin King. I thought you were more clever than that.”

“How good of a shot are you?” Jareth asked.

Mary pulled a pistol out of her coat. “How badly do you want to find out?”

“If I die here, my body will be found in a building with your face projected on the front of it. Even Scotland Yard could get somewhere with that. I want to know how good you are. Go on. Show me. The doctor’s wife must be a little bit bored by now.”

Mary pulled out a fifty pence coin from her purse. She flicked the coin high into the air and shot it.

Jareth stood behind her. “May I see?”

“It’s a dummy. I suppose it was a fairly obvious trick,” Mary said. She pushed the coin back with her foot. Jareth crouched to pick it up as Mary slowly turned back to face him.

“And yet, over a distance of six feet, you failed to make a kill shot,” Jareth said, “My goblins could do better.” His hands were shaking and he felt like he was going to pass out again. “Enough to hospitalize me; not enough to kill me. That wasn’t a miss.” He grinned. “That was surgery.”

Mary looked at him for a moment before lowering her eyes.

“I’ll take the case,” Jareth said.

She looked up again. “What case?”

“Yours,” Jareth said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why didn’t you ask for help? Sherlock would die to make sure you and John were safe. I would have helped you. Sarah would be your greatest defender. Why, Mary?”

“Because John can’t ever know that I lied to him. It would break him and I would lose him forever… and, Jareth, I will never let that happen,” Mary said, “Please... understand. There is nothing in this world that I would not do to stop that happening.”

Jareth spoke quietly like he did to a frightened wished-away. “Mary, I say this to you from experience: the person you love does not need to know every detail of your past, but they must know who you truly are. If you try to force them to stay, they will fight you. I am sorry for the hurt it will cause you, but believe me, this is for the best.” He flipped the switch next to him. “And it was not that obvious of a trick. Do give an old goblin some credit.”

Mary’s breath caught as she realized what had happened. She turned around to face her husband. John had no expression in his eyes as he stood. He brushed down his messed up hair and slowly began to walk towards her.

Jareth moved forward and stood between the couple. “Now talk and sort it out. Do it quickly, but she will be under my protection. Do you understand John?”

Dr. Watson said nothing and pushed past Jareth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Writing the section where Jareth was shot I used and abused “The Doctor is Dying” by Chameleon Circuit.


	6. Chapter V: The New Client

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> Transcript by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/67234.html).

Sherlock paced around 221B, kicking goblins that got in his way. They had converged at Baker Street when they heard that Jareth had gone missing. Even Hoggle had shown up as emotional support for Sarah. (“I wouldn’t worry about that rat. He’s just slunk off to sulk, that’s all. Hates being bested, that one.”)

Mrs. Hudson was in the kitchen when John, Mary, and Jareth entered.

“Jareth! Oh, good gracious, you look terrible,” Mrs. Hudson said.

Sarah went over to Jareth and carefully put her arms around him. “What do you need? Who is after you?”

Jareth spoke to Mrs. Hudson as he put Sarah behind him. “Get me some morphine from your kitchen. I’ve run out.”

“I don’t have any morphine!” Mrs. Hudson said.

“Then what exactly is the point of you?” Jareth snapped.

Sarah said, “Jareth, you have refused all pain…”

Mrs. Hudson interrupted. “What is going on?”

“Bloody good question,” John said.

“Goblins, Higgle…”

“Hoggle!”

“I know that Hoggle. I just like pissing you off. Now get out!” Jareth said.

After a moment of silence, the goblins threw fits as they left. Hoggle glared at Jareth. “Rat.”

“A rat smells better than a dwarf,” Jareth said before Hoggle left. “Now that they’re gone, dear Mrs. Hudson, the Watsons are about to have a domestic, and fairly quickly, I hope, because we’ve got work to do.”

“What?” Sarah and Sherlock said.

“She’s an assassin,” Jareth said, “Retired for five years and seems to not be bent on mindless destruction. Also, she makes fantastic cinnamon bread. It all evens out.”

Sherlock looked at Mary, squinted, and then growled, “Damn it! I should have known!”

“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t figure it out until she shot me,” Jareth said.

“That would give it away,” Sherlock said.

“What’s going on?” Sarah said.

“Oh, I have a better question,” John said, “Is everyone I’ve ever met a psychopath?”

Sarah knew what Jareth was going to say before he said it and she would have smacked him if he was not already hurt.

“Yes,” Jareth stated. “Good that we’ve settled that. Anyway, we...”

“SHUT UP!” John shouted. He glared at Jareth. “And stay shut up, because this is not funny. Not this time.”

“I didn’t _say_ it was funny,” Jareth said. He received a pinch on the arm from Sarah.

“You,” John said as he turned to face Mary, “What have I ever done... hmm? ...my whole life... to deserve you?”

Jareth leaned back against Sarah. She could tell he was unsteady on his feet. “Jareth you need to…”

“I need to answer,” Jareth told her. He said to John, “Everything.”

“I’ve told you, shut up,” John said. He stood in front of Jareth.

Jareth spoke so quietly, only Sarah and John could hear him fully. “Oh, I mean it, seriously. Everything – everything you’ve ever done is what you did.”

“One more word and you will not need morphine,” John said.

Jareth still spoke softly. “You were a doctor who went to war. You’re a man who couldn’t stay in the suburbs for more than a month without storming a crack den and beating up a junkie. Your best friend is a sociopath who solves crimes as an alternative to getting high. Your other friend is one of the lords of chaos. And yet another friend likes back-talking to every single dangerous person she comes across and married her childhood nemesis. Even the landlady used to run a drug cartel.”

Mrs. Hudson interjected, “It was my husband’s cartel. I was just typing.”

“And exotic dancing,” Sherlock said.

Mrs. Hudson “Sherlock Holmes, if you’ve been Youtube-ing...”

Jareth spoke over her. “John, you are addicted to a certain lifestyle. You’re abnormally attracted to dangerous situations and people... so is it truly such a surprise that the woman you’ve fallen in love with conforms to that pattern?”

John grimaced and looked back at his wife for a moment. He was holding back tears as he pointed to Mary. “But she wasn’t supposed to be like that. Why is she like that?”

Jareth gave a pained smile. “Because you chose her.”

John turned away. “Why is everything... MY FAULT?” He kicked a dining chair across the room.

Mrs. Hudson jumped and ran out of the room. Sherlock jumped slightly. Jareth pushed Sarah further away from John.

Mary was completely still.

Jareth spoke softly. “John, listen to me. Be calm and answer me. What is she?”

“My lying wife?”

Jareth shook his head. “No. What is she?”

“And the woman who’s carrying my child who has lied to me since the day I met her?”

“No. Not in this flat; not in this room. Right here, right now, what is she?” Jareth said.

Sherlock caught Sarah’s eye and he gave a reassuring smile.

“Okay. Your way. Always your way.” John took one of the standing dining chairs and sat it between the armchairs by the fireplace. He looked at Mary. “Sit.”

“Why?” Mary said.

“Because that’s where they sit,” John said in a tight voice, “...the people who come in here with their stories. The clients – that’s all you are now, Mary. You’re a client. This is where you sit and talk... and this is where we sit and listen, then we decide if we want you or not.”

John sat down in the red chair. When Jareth nodded, Sherlock picked up the dining chair that John had kicked and placed it front of Mary so that he could sit. Jareth sat down carefully in his chair. Sarah stood behind her husband.

Sarah whispered in his ear. “You need to go to the hospital.”

“Not yet,” Jareth whispered, “We need to help Mary first. I already called an ambulance.”

Mary sat down slowly. She smoothed the tops of her jeans and tugged down the cuffs of her trousers. Mrs. Watson made eye contact with her husband and placed a flash drive beside him.

“‘A.G.R.A.’ What’s that?” Sherlock asked.

“My initials. Everything about who I was is on there.” She kept eye contact with John. “If you love me, don’t read it in front of me.”

“Why?” John said.

Mary held back tears. “Because you won’t love me when you’ve finished... and I don’t want to see that happen.” She turned to Jareth, tears still in her eyes. “How much do you know already?”

Jareth squeezed the hand Sarah had resting on his shoulder. “By your skill set, you are – or were – an intelligence agent, most likely with a license to kill. Your accent is currently English but I suspect you are not. You are on the run from something; you have used your skills to disappear; Magnussen knows your secret, which is why you were going to kill him; and I assume you befriended Janine in order to get close to him.”

“At least I didn’t put my spouse up to it,” Mary said, “The stuff Magnussen has on me, I would go to prison for the rest of my life.”

“So you were just going kill him,” John said.

“People like Magnussen should be killed. That’s why there are people like me,” Mary said.

John gently punched the arm of his chair. “Perfect. So that’s what you were? An assassin? How could I not see that?”

Jareth was about to answer when Mary did it for him. “You did see that... and you married me. Because he’s right. It’s what you like.”

“So... Mary...” Jareth said, pausing more often to breathe, “... any documents that Magnussen has concerning yourself, you want... extracted and returned.” Sarah placed her fingers on Jareth’s pulse point at his wrist.

“Why would you help me?” Mary asked.

“Because you saved his life,” Sarah said.

“Sorry, what?” John said.

“Oh, John, you forget that I was involved with people very much like Mary once,” Sarah said, “It’s obvious.”

Jareth smiled slightly. “Clever Mary. When I happened on you and Magnussen... you had a problem. More specifically, you had a witness. The solution, of course, was simple. Kill us both and leave. However, sentiment got the better of you. One precisely-calculated shot to incapacitate me... in the hope that it would bide you more time to negotiate my silence. Of course, you couldn’t shoot Magnussen. On the night that both of us broke into the building, your own husband would become a suspect, so... you calculated... that Magnussen... would use the fact of your involvement rather than sharing the information with the police... as is his M.O. Then you left the way you came. Have I missed anything?”

“How did she save your life?” John said.

“She phoned the ambulance,” Sarah said.

“I phoned the ambulance,” John said.

“She phoned first,” Sarah said, “I didn’t find him for another five minutes. If it was just us, he would have died. The average arrival time for a London ambulance is...”

A paramedic rushed into the room. “Did somebody call an ambulance?”

Sherlock looked baffled. 

“...eight minutes,” Sarah said.

“Did you bring any morphine?” Jareth said, “I asked on the phone.”

“We were told there was a shooting,” the paramedic said.

“There was, last week,” Sarah said, “I believe my husband is bleeding internally and his pulse is erratic.”

“You may need to re-start my heart on the way,” Jareth said. He then began to collapse to the floor.

Sarah was unable to hold him up, but John and Mary got to him.

“John?” Jareth asked weakly, “John – Magnussen is all that matters now. You can trust Mary. She saved my life.”

“She shot you,” John said quietly.

Jareth nodded. “Mixed messages, I grant you.” His eyes began to lose focus. “Sarah? Precious?” He then passed out.

&%&%&%

Jareth sat in a small restaurant. Eating pasta. In his dressing gown. Still attached to an IV.

“Have you no sense of self-preservation?” Sarah asked.

“You are rubbing off on me,” Jareth said, smiling slightly.

“You just had your heart restarted four days ago and you’ve snuck out of the hospital… again.”

Jareth shrugged. “Mycroft has put some microphones in my room. Can’t have him listening in on this.”

Charles Augustus Magnussen stood at the opposite side of the table. “Shouldn’t you be in hospital?”

“Boring,” Jareth stated, “Besides, I have a nurse with me. Have a seat.”

“Thank you,” Magnussen said.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Jareth said as he put down his fork.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Magnussen said.

“Please don’t declare your undying love to each other,” Sarah said dryly.

They both raised an eyebrow at Sarah.

“Continue,” Sarah said with a wave of her hand.

Jareth smiled at his wife before turning his attention to his antagonist. “I want to see Appledore, where you keep all the secrets, all the files, everything you’ve got on everyone. I want you to invite me.”

“What makes you think I’d be so careless?” Magnussen said.

Jareth leaned forward. “Oh, I think you’re a lot more ‘careless’ than you let on.”

Magnussen leaned forward as well. “Am I?”

“It’s the dead-eye stare that gives it away. Except it’s not dead-eyed, is it?” Jareth moved slowly and took off Magnussen’s glasses. “You’re reading. Portable Appledore. How does it work? Built-in flash drive? 4G wireless?” Jareth put on the glasses and frowned. After a moment of fiddling, he took them off. “They’re just ordinary spectacles.”

“Yes – they are,” Magnussen said, “You underestimate me, Mr. King. Even people you do not like can be a bit intelligent.” Magnussen ate an olive. He washed his fingers using Jareth’s glass of water before taking back his glasses.

“Impress me then. Show me Appledore,” Jareth said.

“Everything is available… for a price,” Magnussen said, “Are you making me an offer?”

“I much prefer gifts,” Jareth said, “A Christmas present.”

“And what are you giving me for Christmas, Mr. King?” Magnussen said.

Jareth grinned and showed his sharp teeth. “Mycroft Holmes and a world you could never dream of.”

Magnussen raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Merry Christmas,” Sarah said dryly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Poor Mary.


	7. Chapter VI: I’ll Be Holmes for Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> Transcript by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/67234.html).

It was Christmas Eve and Sarah was beginning to fall asleep. “This is your most reckless plan yet. I can’t believe I agreed to help you with it,” she mumbled.

“Maybe,” Jareth said. He moved down so he could talk to his son, who would be born sometime in the next week.

“Hello, son. Mommy and I made sugar cookies with Grandma Hudson today. I am sure you liked them. Uncle John even came up and had tea with us. He is coming with us to the Holmes’ cottage for Christmas. Aunt Mary will be there as will Uncle Sherlock and Mr. Umbrella. It is going to be a rough day tomorrow, so don’t give your Mommy too much problems. I am really looking forward to next Christmas. Do you know why? Because it will be your first Christmas and I’ll have known you for almost a year. Mommy and I will have watched you grow. You’ll be with us, which will be the best Christmas present of them all. I love you, son.” Jareth sang a lullaby as he wanted to sooth his child. He kissed Sarah’s stomach. “Good night.”

Jareth moved back up to kiss Sarah. “I love you, Sarah.” He pulled her against him so that her back was to him. “My clever, wonderful, beautiful wife. Where would I be without you?”

“In more trouble than you already are, my future Goblin King,” Sarah said. She kissed the palm of his hand. “I love you too.”

&%&%&%

Jareth quite liked Mr. and Mrs. Holmes. They could already annoy Mycroft faster than Jareth ever could, even if he tried. The Holmes family were in the kitchen with Jareth as well as Billy, who Sherlock had taken under his wing.

“Oh, dear god, it’s only two o’clock. It’s been Christmas Day for at least a week now,” Mycroft groaned, “How can it only be two o’clock? I’m in agony.”

Mrs. Holmes pointed to a laptop at the end of the table. “Mikey, is this your laptop?”

“On which depends the security of the free world, yes... and you’ve got potatoes on it,” Mycroft said dryly.

“Well, you shouldn’t leave it lying around if it’s so important,” Mrs. Holmes said. She put a basket of Christmas crackers next to Mycroft.

“Why are we doing this? We never do this,” Mycroft said.

“We are here because your and Sherlock’s friend is home from hospital and we are all very happy,” Mrs. Holmes said as she ruffled Jareth’s hair.

Jareth grinned at Mycroft. Sherlock rested his head against the table as his shoulders shook with laughter.

“Am I happy too? I haven’t checked,” Mycroft said.

“Behave, Mike,” Mrs. Holmes said.

“‘Mycroft’ is the name you gave me, if you could possibly struggle all the way to the end,” Mycroft said.

Billy held a glass of punch. “Mrs. Holmes?”

She took the glass. “Oh! Thank you, dear. Not absolutely sure why you’re here.”

“I invited him,” Sherlock said.

“I’m his protégé, Mrs. Holmes. When he dies, I get all his stuff, and his job,” Billy said.

“No,” Sherlock said.

“Oh. Well, I help out a bit,” Billy admitted.

“Closer,” Jareth said.

Billy said, “If he does get murdered or something...”

“You should probably stop talking now,” Sherlock said.

“Okay,” Billy said.

“Lovely when you bring your friends round,” Mycroft said dryly.

“Stop fighting this instance.” Mrs. Holmes huffed as she picked up two mugs of tea. “This is for the girls, those sweethearts. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Jareth glanced at his watch which had a countdown for seven minutes and thirty-seven seconds. “Let me help you, Mrs. Holmes.”

&%&%&%

Mr. Holmes was busy putting wood into the fireplace when Mrs. Holmes and Jareth came into the living room. Mary was reading a book, _The Dynamics of Combustion_ by M. L. Holmes. Sarah was next to Mary as she flipped through a book of art.

“Ah, girls,” Mrs. Holmes said, “Here you are. Cup of tea. Now, if Father starts making little humming noises, just give him a little poke. That usually does it.”

Mary giggled. “Did you write this?”

“Oh, that silly old thing. You mustn’t read that. Mathematics must seem terribly fatuous now!” Mrs. Holmes said, “Now, no humming, you!” She patted his backside before leaving the room.

Jareth stood behind Sarah and wrapped his arms around her. “Drink your tea, precious. You haven’t had any today and it makes you cranky.”

“Am not,” Sarah said.

Mr. Holmes said, “Complete flake, my wife, but happens to be a genius.”

“She was a mathematician?” Sarah said.

Mr. Holmes nodded. “Gave it all up for children. I could never bear to argue with her. I’m something of a moron myself. But she’s…” he lowered his voice, “…unbelievably hot!”

Jareth snickered and kissed Sarah’s cheek. “I understand that sentiment.”

“Oh my god. You’re the sane one, aren’t you?” Mary said.

Mr. Holmes raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

John walked in and tried to walk out again. Mr. Holmes came to the rescue. “Do you two need a moment?”

“If you don’t mind,” John said.

Jareth helped Sarah to her feet and led her to the dining room. Mr. Holmes said once the door was closed behind them, “Those two. They all right?”

“They’ve had their ups and downs,” Jareth said.

Mr. Holmes nodded and left the couple alone. Jareth kissed Sarah’s cheek. “John won’t hurt her. I never would have allowed them in the same room, even the night he found out, if he would. Do listen in though. I am going to talk to Mycroft.”

&%&%&%

Mycroft smoked a cigarette as Jareth was perched on the stone wall outside of the Holmes’ cottage. The goblin had several rocks in his hands and he was tossing them into the field behind the house.

“I’m glad you’ve given up on the Magnussen business,” Mycroft said.

“Are you?” Jareth said as he tossed a stone.

“I’m still curious, though. He’s hardly your usual kind of puzzle. Why do you... hate him? Moriarty at least had your pity,” Mycroft said.

Jareth glared at Mycroft. “Because he attacks people who are different and preys on their secrets. Why don’t you?”

“He never causes too much damage to anyone important. He’s far too intelligent for that. He’s a business-man, that’s all, and occasionally useful to us. A necessary evil – not a dragon for you to slay,” Mycroft said.

Jareth chuckled and tossed another stone. “You have spent far too much time with Sarah if you think me a dragon slayer.” He jumped down off the wall and stood next to Mycroft.

“Oh no, Jareth. _You_ think of yourself as a dragon slayer.” Mycroft chuckled. “You are the most hopeless romantic I have ever met.

Jareth gave a half-smile. “Family trait.”

“I have, by the way, a job offer I should like you to decline,” Mycroft said.

Jareth raised an eyebrow as Mycroft never did that when it came to jobs. “I decline your kind offer.”

“I shall pass on your regrets.

“What was it?”

“MI-6. They want to place you back into Eastern Europe. An undercover assignment that would prove fatal to you in, I think, about six months. And you would have finished it rather than go back to the Labyrinth because you are that stubborn of a bastard.”

“Then why don’t you want me to take it?”

“It’s tempting... but on balance you have more utility closer to home.”

“Utility. How do I have utility? In a little over a week, you will have no power over me. With that job, you’ll have a little less than six months of my skills at your disposal,” Jareth said.

Mycroft took a final drag of his cigarette. “‘Here be dragons.’” He stomped the cigarette. “This isn’t agreeing with me. I’m going in.”

Jareth followed Mycroft as they made their way back to the house. “You need low tar. You still smoke like a beginner.”

“Also, your loss would break my heart.”

Jareth tripped and almost fell to the ground. “Your heart? You didn’t even spare your other brother from… You don’t even like me! What the hell am I supposed to say to that?”

Mycroft smiled. “Merry Christmas?”

“You hate Christmas,” Jareth said.

“Yes. Perhaps there was something in the punch,” Mycroft said.

“Clearly. Go and have some more,” Jareth said. He playfully shoved Mycroft into the house.

&%&%&%

Sarah had tears in her eyes as she listened at the door. She repeated to Jareth the highlights of the conversation. “‘The problems of your past are your business. The problems of your future... are my privilege.’ He didn’t read the flashdrive. He’s still upset, but he’s forgiven her. They’ll be okay.”

Jareth kissed his wife’s forehead. “I knew he would. John is a good man and Mary loves him more than anything. Have you had your tea?”

Sarah shook her head. She took a sip and made a face. “I didn’t ask for… peach.” Her eyes widened. “Mary! Don’t drink the tea!”

She rushed into the living room and saw John and Mary collapsed on the couch.

“You tried to leave me behind, again,” Sarah said.

“Well, that bit you had is not going to make you sleep,” Jareth said, “So, I guess I am just going to have to take my _pregnant wife_ on a dangerous mission. I knew you wouldn’t fall for it. I had to at least say that I tried.”

Sarah checked on Mary and John’s pulse. 

“Don’t worry,” Jareth said, “Wiggins is an excellent chemist.”

Jareth went into the kitchen where everyone except for Sherlock and Billy were passed out. 

“Everyone alright?” Jareth asked.

“Perfectly well,” Sherlock said as he put on his coat, “We should have our lift in…”

Billy interrupted by giving Sherlock a shot in the neck. Sherlock tried to fight back, but the drugs immediately took effect. Jareth helped Sherlock to the ground.

“Jareth…” Sherlock said as he fought against sleep.

“Sherlock,” Jareth said in a quiet voice, “You made your vow to protect the Watsons. I have my vow to protect all wished-aways and let their wishes come true. Your best friend, your wish for someone to always be there for you, is in danger. I will go in your place to protect John. Besides, in a week, no one save the High Court can touch me. So many more hearts would break if something happened to you instead of me.”

Sherlock’s eyes closed. Jareth ruffled his curly hair. “Sleep well, little pirate.”

Jareth stood up and put on his coat. “Keep an eye on them Billy.” He grabbed Mycroft’s laptop as the sound of a helicopter came closer. “There’s our lift. Come along, my Champion.”

In a few moments, Sarah and Jareth waited for the helicopter to land in the field behind the cottage. 

“You purposefully put peach into my tea to warn me,” Sarah said.

“Now why would I ever do that?” Jareth said with a smirk.

Sarah rolled her eyes at this comment.

“This is going to be incredibly dangerous,” Jareth said, “One false move and we’ll have betrayed the security of the United Kingdom and be in prison for high treason. Magnussen is quite simply the most dangerous man we’ve ever encountered, and the odds are comprehensively stacked against us. You did remember not to bring any weapons, right?”

“I didn’t. Not even a dagger,” Sarah said.

Jareth took Sarah’s arm as they walked to the helicopter. “Off to the dragon’s den of Appledore then, precious.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Peaches. It always comes back to peaches. I would apology for the punny title, but that would mean I felt sorry, which I am not in the least.


	8. Chapter VII: His Last Trick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920 of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> Transcript by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/67234.html.

Appledore was one of the most beautiful modern houses Sarah had ever seen. It really was quite unfortunate that is was owned by a foul dragon of a man.

Jareth kept his arm around her as they made their way into the house. They stood in what was a sort of living room where Magnussen sat on a sofa, drinking hard liquor. The guards searched them for weapons and then left.

“I would offer you a drink, but it’s very rare and expensive,” Magnussen said.

Jareth passed the laptop to Magnussen. A video of John being pulled out of a bonfire by Sherlock was projected onto a glass wall behind Sarah.

“It was you,” Jareth said.

“Yes, of course,” Magnussen said, “You, sir, have the most pressure points I have ever seen. How you get anything done is beyond me. Which one, though, was difficult. Hurting the Williams family would have been too conspicuous. Surprisingly enough, they are just as they appear: a nice, middle class family.”

Sarah glared at Magnussen. He smiled at her. “I am not nearly as stupid as that Moriarty fellow. Go after Mrs. King? No. That would just put me into a coffin and you would sleep well. Of course, I had to make sure she didn’t do anything ‘heroic’ without your knowledge.”

He waved to the screen. “But then, when I was dealing the nuisance of Mary Morstan, using John Watson against her, then I realized how it would work. Sherlock Holmes. Your best friend. A best friend who is also the younger brother of one of the most powerful men in the world.”

Sarah said sharply, “You put John in a fire for leverage?”

“Oh, I’d never let Doctor Watson burn.” Magnussen put his glass on the table before him. “I had people standing by. I’m not a murderer... unlike you.”

Jareth put his arm around Sarah again, mainly to hold her back.

Magnussen turned off the footage. “Let me explain how leverage works, Mrs. King. For those who understand these things, Mycroft Holmes is the most powerful man in the country. Well... apart from me. Mycroft’s pressure point is his junkie detective brother, Sherlock. And Sherlock’s pressure point is his best friend, John Watson. John Watson’s pressure point is his wife. Jareth King might be able to interfere, so I use his pressure point of Sherlock. I own John Watson’s wife… I own Mycroft. He’s what I’m getting for Christmas.”

“It’s an exchange, not a gift,” Jareth said, “As a friend of mine said, many feel gifts need to be given back in equal measure, and this one most certainly is.”

“Forgive me, but,” Magnussen held the laptop in his arms and stroked it, “…I already seem to have it.”

“It’s password protected,” Jareth said as he smiled, “In return for the password, you will give me any material in your possession pertaining to the woman I know as Mary Watson.”

Magnussen chuckled. “Oh, she’s bad, that one. So many dead people. You should see what I’ve seen.”

“I don’t need to see it,” Sarah said.

“You might enjoy it, though.” Magnussen licked his lips. “I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I kind of guessed that Chucky,” Sarah said.

“Then why don’t you show us?” Jareth said.

“Show you Appledore?” Magnussen said, “The secret vaults? Is that what you want?”

Jareth commanded, “I want everything you have on Mary.”

Magnussen snickered and then chuckled. “You know, I honestly expected something good. I was promised you would be good.”

Jareth said, “Oh, I think you’ll find the contents of that laptop...”

“...include a GPS locator. By now, Mycroft will have noticed the theft, and security services will be converging on this house. Having arrived they’ll find top secret information in my hands and have every justification to search my vaults. They will discover further information of this kind and I’ll be imprisoned. You will be exonerated, and restored to your smelly little apartment to solve crimes with Mr. and Mrs. Psychopath.” Magnussen took a sip from his drink. “Mycroft has been looking for this opportunity for a long time. He’ll be very, very proud of his friend.”

“The fact that you know it’s going to happen isn’t going to stop it,” Jareth said.

“Then why am I smiling?” Magnussen said, “Ask me.”

Sarah groaned and rolled her eyes. “Why are you smiling?”

Magnussen kept his eyes locked with Jareth’s. “Because Jareth King has made one enormous mistake which will destroy the lives of everyone he loves and everything he holds dear.” He stood up slowly. “Let me show you the Appledore vaults.”

&%&%&%

Through an open pair of glass doors was a room with two wooden doors at the other side. Magnussen put his hand on the doors. “The entrance to my vaults. This is where I keep you all.”

He opened the doors wide. Magnussen stepped slowly through the doors and entered a small, white room that was brightly lit. The only thing in the room was a metal and leather low-backed executive chair. Magnussen sat down as Sarah tried to discern the secrets of the room. She knew that not everything was at it seemed. Maybe there was a trap door. Maybe it was a perspective issue. Maybe a computer came out of the ground. Maybe…

“So… where are the vaults, then?” Sarah said.

“Vaults? What vaults? There are no vaults beneath this building.” He motioned around him. “They’re all in here.”

Jareth’s eyes widened and Sarah felt sick. She had rarely seen her husband so distressed.

Magnussen touched his head. “The Appledore vaults are my Mind Palace. You know about Mind Palaces, don’t you, Jareth? How to store information so you never forget it – by picturing it. I just sit here, I close my eyes… and down I go to my vaults.” He closed his eyes. “I can go anywhere inside my vaults... my memories. I’ll look at the files on Mrs. Watson.” He moved his hands like he was opening a filing cabinet. He flicked through files and pulled out a single folder. “This is one of my favorites.” He began to flip through the file. “Oh, it’s so exciting. All those wet jobs for the CIA. Ooh! She’s gone a bit... freelance now. Bad girl.” He snickered. “Ah, she is so wicked.” He put up the file and closed the filing cabinet. “I can really see why you like her.” He opened his eyes. “You see?”

“So there are no documents. You don’t actually have anything here,” Sarah said.

“Oh, sometimes I send out for something... if I really need it... but mostly I just remember it all.”

“All of it?” Sarah said.

Magnussen looked at Jareth. “It’s all about knowledge. Everything is. Knowing is owning.”

Sarah shook her head. “But if you just know it, then you don’t have proof.”

“Proof? What would I need proof for? I’m in news, you moron. I don’t have to prove it – I just have to print it.”

“I love newspapers. Fairy tales,” Jareth murmured to himself.

Magnussen stood up. “Speaking of news, you’ll both be heavily featured tomorrow – trying to sell state secrets to me. Let’s go outside. They’ll be here shortly. Can’t wait to see you arrested.” He left the room.

Sarah took Jareth’s hand, but he did not respond to the movement. “You have a plan?”

No response.

“Jareth.”

The detective left the room with Sarah following. They stood outside on the patio. Magnussen looked around. “They’re taking their time, aren’t they?”

“You just know things. How does that work?” Sarah said.

Magnussen stood far too close to Sarah, his hot breath was against her ear. “It works like this, Sarah. I know who Mary hurt and killed. I know where to find people who hate her. I know where they live; I know their phone numbers. All in my Mind Palace – all of it.” He wrapped a lock of Sarah’s hair around his fingers. “I could phone them right now and tear your whole life down – and I will. This is what I do to people. This is what I do to whole countries...” He yanked Sarah’s hair, causing her to cry out. “... just because I know.”

“Jareth!”

“Your husband doesn’t look like he cares, does he? I think I am the one who finally broke him. Isn’t that funny?” Magnussen said.

“Wouldn’t it be simpler to just kill us?” Sarah said.

“Your death would be rather pleasant for me. However… I have no plans to kill you or your husband,” Magnussen said, “No, I have much better plans for you.”

“Jareth, please,” Sarah said.

“He won’t save you. I am now going to feel your baby kick,” Magnussen said. 

Sarah stiffened as the blackmailer placed his hand on her stomach. 

_Jareth won’t save me. I have to do it myself._

“Lively little fellow, isn’t he?” Charles said.

Without any warning, Sarah slapped Magnussen hard enough to knock the glasses off his face.

“You are never to touch my son or me ever again, do you understand me?” Sarah said.

Magnussen did not move. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me,” Sarah said.

“I do not think you understand your situation,” Magnussen said as he picked up his glasses, “I own you. I can do whatever I want.”

“No, you don’t. Go ahead. Tell your papers about what I did in the service. Even if you had a story waiting, I can call my family and give them a heads up about what is going to happen to them. You can do nothing to Jareth. Even if I end up in jail and/or die, my son will be safe. So go ahead. You have no power over me.” Sarah then did a mock curtsy before walking to the staircase.

Jareth could not help but smile at his wife.

“Quite the heroine you have. It seems hardly fair, but I will have to use what I have against her,” Magnussen said.

“Oh, my Champion knows life isn’t fair,” Jareth said.

A helicopter came into view. Sarah turned around and watched the two men.

“To clarify: Appledore’s vaults only exist in your mind, nowhere else, just there,” Jareth said.

“They’re not real. They never have been,” Magnussen said, “There’s nothing to be done! Oh, I’m not a villain. I have no evil plan. I’m a business man, acquiring assets. You happen to be one of them! I will bring your whole world down because you are in my way,” Magnussen said.

“Never by a business man,” Jareth said.

The almost Goblin King turned to Magnussen and gave a goblin grin. Jareth made a crystal appear in his hand. The black mailer’ eyes widened. 

Jareth turned the crystal in his hand. “For my last trick I’ve brought you a gift.”

“What?” Magnussen said.

With a swift movement, Jareth threw the crystal at Magnussen. It passed through the human, leaving a gaping hole in Magnussen’s chest where his heart use to be.

“A swift death,” Jareth said to the corpse.

Mycroft began shouting through loud speakers. Sarah began moving towards Jareth.

“Stay still! Keep your hands up, Sarah!” Jareth said as he raised his own.

“Jareth! What have you done?” Sarah said.

“Do you remember in the gallery? If you remained the pure heroine, I would be the dark, tormented hero?” Jareth said, “The world did not fall that day nor will it fall today. I promise, precious, the world will not fall while you are here to defend it, my Champion!”

&%&%&%

Sarah was not arrested, but sent home. Over the next few days, all of Jareth’s allies from Lestrade to Christiana tried to find out where he was taken, but Mycroft was too clever for them. Besides, Jareth had broken his deal when he had killed Magnussen. They had no way by law or vow to take him back.

On New Year’s Eve, two things that Magnussen had said was playing over and over in her head. The first was his knowledge of Christiana. The second was when he said, “Your death would be rather pleasant for me. However… I have no plans to kill you or your husband.” Someone had said something very similar to her exactly a year ago.

&%&%&%

Sarah stormed into Titania’s chambers where the High Queen was holding her daughter. Dante tried to drag his aunt out, but Sarah smacked him every time he tried. “You set Magnussen on Jareth. That’s why he knew about Christiana’s connection to him. You are trying to get back at me for killing your son.”

Titania smiled at Sarah. “You really are small minded if you think it is about you.”

Sarah shook from anger. “Why would you do this?”

“Because I can see the big picture. I can see where all the threads of the tapestry connect,” Titania said, “I guessed that Jareth was alive and I knew I had to distract him. So, I tried to find a weakness in those he loved, and I found your ‘Mary’. So, I set Magnussen on her. I directed him towards Jareth after your husband received a deal for the Goblin Kingdom. I had to make him lose, so that his family could lose and all would be fair and balanced once again.”

“Why would you do this? Surely you knew Oberon…”

Titania held up her hand. “I am almost a millennium old, child. I can wait out for the death of a reckless man such as Oberon. I can deal with the upstarts of the Goblin Kings and their whores. I. Can. Wait. All shall be mine once again and there is nothing you can do, isn’t that right Dante?”

Dante gritted his teeth. “Why Jareth?”

“Kill the clever clowns,” Titania said, “This meeting is over. I think the girl who ate the peach and forgot everything is going to be needing medical attention soon.”

Sarah said, “No. I will make you fix…” She screamed and clutched her stomach.

“I think you will find Ms. Williams has gone into labor,” Titania said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: GARG! *throws things in the air* VILLAINS! 
> 
> The friend Jareth mentioned is Sophia Midnight from SarianaJ’s series, including a spin-off of The Labyrinth of London. She gave that advice to Jareth in “I Have Brought You a Gift”.


	9. Chapter VIII: Not Long At All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> Transcript by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/67234.html).

Jareth could barely lift his head when Mycroft opened the sliding grate to look into Jareth’s cell.

“The quality of mercy is not strain'd,?” Jareth asked.

“Sarah may be your Portia, but she is not your judge in this matter,” Mycroft said, “Your tribunal is still undecided.”

“Then why are you here if not for my pound of flesh?” Jareth said.

“It is because of your flesh that I am here,” Mycroft said, “On this New Year’s Day at 1:13 pm, Sarah Williams gave birth to a son.”

Jareth struggled to his feet as he tried not to be dragged down by the iron chains at his wrists and ankles. “They are well?”

“No complications. Ordinary, as labors go,” Mycroft said.

Jareth nodded and rested his head against the wall. There was a moment of silence before Jareth started screaming. He tried to kick and punch the walls, but his attempts made him collapse on the floor, still screaming.

Slowly, Jareth began to yell less and shed tears more.

“I did what was right. I made sure your brother had his wish. I saved the fair lady of noble heart. I killed the monster. I should be with my Champion. I should be with my son. They need me. It’s not… it’s not…”

“Fair?” Mycroft added.

“Don’t… don’t teach me that lesson. I know it. I know it,” Jareth said.

“No, you haven’t. Those with ‘noble heart’ as you would say, can still fix their mistakes and be rewarded. Of course, trials and tribulations must occur, but good will win in the end.” Mycroft rested his head against the door. “We may live in a world of fairy tales, but fairy tales are merely another way to explain life, and all life ends in death. Comedies are not the end result. Tragedy is.”

“No, it’s a comedy. There is always redemption.”

“Is that what you really think?”

Jareth moved to his knees. “Now my charms are all o'erthrown,/And what strength I have's mine own,/Which is most faint: now, 'tis true,/I must be here confined by you,” Jareth said, “Please, Mycroft. Let me see my son. I don’t… I do not want his legacy to be half an orphan. I don’t want Sarah to be alone. I promised her. I promised her with everything that I am to not let her be alone.”

“We are such stuff/As dreams are made on, and our little life/Is rounded with a sleep,” Mycroft said, “I am afraid your dream is ending and your second sleep is closer than you wish.”

&%&%&%

At a small airport, Jareth stood with Mycroft outside of a private jet. Two guards were nearby, but appeared unconcerned with their prisoner.

“You will let me see Sarah, won’t you?” Jareth asked quietly.

“Really? Do you think I would bring one woman all the way out here?” Mycroft said as a black car drove up next to the jet.

Sarah ran out of the car and into Jareth’s arms. Jareth held her close and began kissing her frantically.

“I, however, could hardly stop them coming on their own,” Mycroft said.

“Them?” Jareth asked, turning his head towards the car.

Joanna came out of the car on the other side in her usual red and gold. She was carrying a small bundle in her arms. Jareth would have collapsed if he had not been holding onto Sarah.

“Jareth,” Joanna said as she smiled, “Would you like to meet your son?”

The new father nodded. The sleeping blond child was placed in Jareth’s arms. Sarah stood next to them and stroked Jareth’s back.

“I don’t think I have ever seen anyone or anything so beautiful.” He sniffed back tears. “Hello, Edmund Carwyn Miller. I’m your Papa and I love you very much.” Jareth kissed his sleeping son’s forehead. “I’m sorry I couldn’t welcome you to the world three days ago. I wanted to be there.”

“He knows, Jareth,” Sarah said, “I think he’s waking up.”

“His eyes. They’re just like yours Sarah. Look at how he’s looking around. It’s like he can see everything for what it is,” Jareth said.

“He is going to be smart like his Father,” Joanna said.

“Don’t listen to her. Be smart like your Mother. She’s far more clever than I am,” Jareth said.

Jareth sang softly to his son until the blond babe fell asleep.

“Thank you,” Jareth said to Mycroft.

“Don’t thank me. Your sister was involved with this,” Mycroft said, “She’s almost as terrifying as Mummy.”

Jareth bent forward slightly and kissed his sister on her cheek. They whispered together so only the two of them could hear. “Take care of them, Jo. I love you.”

“Always,” Joanna said, “I love you too, Jay. You’ll figure a way out. You always do.”

Jareth gave a pained smile. He turned his attention to Sarah. The two of them cradled Edmund and held onto each other.

“Do you know where they’re sending you?” Sarah asked.

“Somewhere in Eastern Europe for six months,” Jareth said.

“Then who knows?” Sarah asked.

“Who knows,” Jareth said.

Sarah smiled at Jareth. “You will come back. We will see you again.”

“We will see each other again,” Jareth said. _In this life or the next._

“I love you. Always remember that,” Sarah said.

“But that means that I don’t think about it all the time,” Jareth said.

Sarah giggled and let Jareth kiss her slow and soft. 

“I love you, precious,” Jareth said. He then kissed Edmund’s head. “And I love you.”

After making sure his son was safe in Sarah’s arms, Jareth gave his wife one last kiss before walking onto the flight that would almost certainly take him to his death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: You can skip this note entirely as I go on an English major spiel.
> 
> Both of the plays Mycroft and Jareth quoted ( _The Merchant of Venice_ and _The Tempest_ ), are among Shakespeare’s most contentious plays in interpretation. I adore and studied them both. One of the biggest (and more pleasant) debates in my English department was whether life was a Shakespearean Tragedy (since everyone dies eventually) or a Comedy (since it was a Christian school and most of the students believed in the Second Coming of the Wedding Feast in Revelation). 
> 
> One last chapter…


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> Transcript by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/67234.html).

The same message was played on every TV channel. Ads were popping up all over the internet. Four words. One picture of a man who was supposed to be dead.

There was only one detective who could solve this impossible mystery.

&%&%&%

Jareth was handed a phone on the plane.

“Mycroft Holmes, sir,” the guard said.

“Hello, Mycroft,” Jareth said. He wiped away his tears. “Four minutes? Missed me already?”

“Yes, yes. Exile treating you well? Did you learn your lesson? Well then, I have a little mystery for you. Listen to this,” Mycroft said, “It is on every television station in the United Kingdom and it is spreading throughout the entire world.”

Jareth smiled when he heard the voice on the message.

&%&%&%

Sarah, Joanna, and Edmund were waiting for Jareth when the plane landed. The former goblin king skipped out of the jet.

“Jareth, what’s wrong? Mycroft won’t tell us what happened until you landed,” Sarah said.

“Second best thing that could happen right now,” Jareth said before kissing Sarah, “You said we would see each other again and you were right. That’s the best thing.”

Sarah gave Edmund to Jareth. “And what is the second best thing?”

Mycroft showed the message on his phone to Sarah and Joanna.

“Edmund, your Papa’s arch nemesis is back,” Jareth said in a sing-song voice, “And we’re going to stop him.” Jareth began singing “Stayin’ Alive”.

The message was a short video clip of Jim Moriarty saying, “Did you miss me?”

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: *dying whale noises* I NEED SERIES FOUR MORE THAN I NEEDED SERIES THREE!!! I DID NOT KNOW THAT WAS POSSIBLE!
> 
> I will be finishing this series. At the moment, I have no ideas how to finish it up, so it might be… Season Four before I write anything more. I will bring a happy ending. I promise you.
> 
> Thank you, dear readers, once again for reading this series and all of the support you have given me.


End file.
